


Patches

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of coda to Poetry to Protect Us</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patches

"Mum, don't you want to move into the shade?" Janice suggested. "Here, you hold on to the stuff and I'll move the chair."

"Will Ray be here today?" Mrs Doyle asked, obediently standing, clutching her work basket.

"Here you go." Janice slid an arm under her mother's elbow. "He said he'd be here but just to look in for a moment. You know what it's like with his job and everything. Fancy a cup of tea?"

"Such a lovely day." Mrs Doyle picked up the torn jeans again. "It'll be nice to see him." What did she have to remember? _Yes, that's right. Patch with the same colour._ They'd told her it was fashionable to have contrasting patches, but - "Oh, not _there_ , Mum!" Janice had exclaimed, but Ray had laughed and hugged her and gone off happily wearing them. When had that been? Not last year... longer ago, surely...

"Need a patch or two on my memory," she said aloud. She knew she forgot things but she could remember if --

"Such lovely curls," she murmured.

"Here's your tea, Mum."

She thought she knew the voice, but --

Two men standing there, one with fading bruises. Both with hair very short, as if they'd recently shaved it. Lovely blue eyes the bruised one had, and the other, holding out the cup of tea, the other, the other...

"Oh, Ray," she remonstrated, "you've been fighting again."

"Mum?" He sounded surprised. "You know it's me?"

"Well, of course I do." She took the cup. "And they had to shave your hair off, didn't they? Did he catch them from you?" she asked the blue-eyed one.

"Er -- Mum, this is my mate, Bodie. It was the job, not lice -- "

"You boys, always fighting. Nice to meet you, Bodie." She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. "Such lovely curls, but they'll grow back, won't they?"

He leaned down to kiss her. "They'll grow back for you. Sorry, Mum, we can't stay. Got to meet our boss. We'll come back soon."

 

As they settled back into the car Bodie ran a finger over Doyle's stubbly hair. "They'd better grow back for me too," he said. And, as Doyle feinted a cuff to his head: "And stop beating me up or I'll tell my mother-in-law of you!"

Doyle sighed. "I wonder if she'll remember who we are next time."


End file.
